Pride Shabbat 2024

Last month, I was asked by my Rabbi if I would prepare a Dvar Torah — or sermon — for the first Friday of June, otherwise known as Pride Shabbat. Aside from the extreme honor it was to be asked, it was also a no brainer. If you’ve been following us long enough, you know that we live by the words “visibility matters” — so of course I said yes!

Before I share my speech, I wanted to quickly dive into what a Dvar Torah is. Dvar Torah literally means "word of Torah" and is like a little nugget of wisdom . And it isn't just about reciting ancient words. It's about making those words come alive in today's world. It's like taking a timeless message and giving it a modern twist, kind of like updating an old recipe with some new spices to make it pop!

So, whether you're sharing a Dvar Torah at a Shabbat dinner, a study group, or even just with a friend over a cup of tea, it's all about connecting with each other through the wisdom of the Torah and finding meaning in our everyday lives. It's like having a heart-to-heart chat with a dear friend who just happens to be thousands of years old!

We begin this Shabbat — the first of Pride month — entering a new book of the Torah, the Book of Numbers, and this week’s parsha, Bamidbar, or “in the wilderness”. The Israelites, poised on the edge of the wilderness, are meticulously counted by tribe and family.

But what about those who don't fit neatly into a category? What about those who are impaired physically or mentally? What about those who are temporarily out of commission due to an injury or those who have an invisible chronic health issue? What about those who were born into a family of mixed Tribes, say Benjamin and Judah. While both tribes share religion, land, and traditions, Judah's political prominence and Benjamin's warrior reputation give them separate identities.

No one wants to be put into a group or category permanently. We are beings who evolve over time, ever-changing, growing, and shifting through phases of life.

So then what about the one whose identity dances between groups, defying classification? What about the queer Jew, the one whose identity stands out from the expected norm?

For those of you who may not know me, my name is Sydney Sharon. I am a proud member of this temple, joining just over three years ago when my daughter turned 2 and began at the preschool. I am also a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community. I am a proud Jew. And I am a very proud mama.

When my wife and I were given this incredible opportunity to write this week’s Dvar Torah and share our personal experiences of being gay jews navigating this world’s landscape, it was a no brainer for us. For if there is one code we live by in and out of our home, it’s that visibility matters.

So, if you’re wondering what makes our story so special or how our story relates to Bamidbar, give me another few minutes, and I promise it will be worth it.

This parsha, with its emphasis on counting and order as well as the wild-ness of one’s journey — both physically and in reality, but also the internal struggle of what it means to be wild and perhaps barren — can feel particularly isolating and lonely for those who don't see themselves reflected in the traditional framework. How does one who exists outside these established societal norms navigate the terrain?

A closer look into the parsha reveals a deeper message — a message that perhaps can shed light on and provide hope and possibilities to the intersectionality of what it means to be BOTH gay and Jewish, otherwise finding a new category or tribe to fit comfortably in.

On the one hand, the wilderness is often perceived and referred to as a barren wasteland. But there is also the other side of that coin, which holds the potential for profound transformation. The act of wandering, of being untethered, can lead to a deeper connection with oneself, with God, or with your tribe and family. For the wilderness can be a place where old structures fall, and new opportunities emerge.

For the queer Jew, too, exists in their own kind of wilderness, both outwardly and inside. Navigating societal expectations, religious interpretations, and personal desires can often feel like wandering through an uncharted territory.

But here's the beauty: The Torah itself acknowledges the existence of those who stand out. Take the tribe of Levi. Unlike the other tribes who received designated territories in the Land of Israel, the Levites were not allotted their own land. Instead, The Levites were entrusted with the sacred duty of serving the Mishkan, or traveling Temple, during the Israelites' wanderings in the wilderness. I wonder what it was like to be able to wander from tribe to tribe, being welcomed into all, but still somehow, not part of one, not at the core. Always an outsider while also simultaneously being a fleeting insider — a dichotomy of ambivalent fitting in-ness. So perhaps, the Levites, unmoored from a fixed location, represent the fluidity of identity, the ability to move and adapt while still holding sacred space.

Similarly, the queer Jew carries a unique kind of sacred space. Their lived experience, their perspective that challenges the norm, can bring fresh insights to traditions. Their very existence pushes us to question our assumptions, to consider the expansiveness of what it means to be part of the Jewish tapestry.

The wilderness, then, becomes a metaphor for the journey of self-discovery. It's in the questioning, the wrestling with customs and rituals, that a queer Jew can find their own authentic expression of Judaism.

Think of Miriam, Moses' sister. In the wilderness, she leads the women in song and dance, a celebration outside the established order. Her act, sometimes interpreted as rebellion, can also be seen as an expansion of the Jewish experience, a recognition of the many voices that contribute to the journey.

Bamidbar reminds us that God's presence resides not just in the established structures, but also in the margins, in the unexpected places. The queer Jew, standing out in the wilderness, can be a powerful reminder of that very truth. Their unique perspective can illuminate new pathways, enriching the ongoing conversation that is Judaism.

So, this Shabbat, let us not just count, but celebrate the richness of experience within our community. Let us embrace the wilderness, the space for questioning and growth, where each Jew, queer or not, can find their own place to stand and sing their sacred song.